Thorfinn Goes to the Theatre
by Canimal
Summary: (One Shot) Thorfinn's wife drags him out to an evening of live musical theatre against his wishes. Silly, mini-sequel to "Parolee and His Princess"


**Thanks to Kreeblim Sabs and a prompt on Tumblr, this silly, little drabble grew into a much bigger story. Her prompt was basically "Thorfinn goes on a date with Hermione to see a live musical". Here is the mini-sequel to "Parolee and His Princess". You will absolutely have to read that one first or this story will make very little sense.**

 **Be gentle. I'm sorry if the tense is all over the place. This was written very quickly. : )**

 **Rated M only for language, memories of war, and mention of spousal abuse**

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Thorfinn Goes to the Theatre

Thorfinn sat on the edge of the bed watching his wife of three and half glorious years put the last touches on her hair. Charmed into an elegant sleek, side-swept do with half a bottle of Sleak-easy liberally applied to keep it smooth, he hated it. No, he would never say so, of course. His wife was deadly accurate with her hexes. He learned all too well the benefit of keeping his mouth shut about her hair after a rather _uncomfortable_ Christmas dinner with the whole fucking Weasley family. She spent over an hour charming it into perfection. He may have casually mentioned that he preferred her hair down and in its wild, natural state. Sometimes his bollocks still twinged when the weather grew cold.

"Is that the time?"

Hermione jumped up from her chair with panic in her voice. She rushed around the room searching for matching shoes. Thorfinn sat back enjoying the show. He knew he shouldn't, but he loved seeing his witch frazzled. It was bloody adorable.

"We have plenty of time, Princess," he responded. "We will just Apparate."

"Oh, I haven't even fed Sammy yet."

Recognizing that his wife was about to enter frantic, panicked mode, Thorfinn rose from the bed. Only three strides of his long legs brought them close enough for him to pull her in his arms. One kiss was all that was required before she calmed down.

"I took Sammy downstairs about twenty minutes ago. His Auntie Reinie and his Uncle Pasha are more than capable of feeding him."

"But he's had that stomachache the past couple of days. Does Reina know…"

"Princess, she has had four babies of her own. She knows. And your best mate Pasha has read every single parenting book that has ever been written since she got pregnant the first time. Sammy is safe. Sammy is loved. Sammy will be fed."

She seemed to settle down at his assurances. Their son had not been an easy baby. In and out of the Healer's office since he was born fourteen months earlier, Hermione worried constantly. They had not had an evening out in longer than either cared to remember. Thorfinn would never complain. A night spent in with his wife and son would always be preferable to all of the nights he used to spend out as a bachelor before the war and ten long years in prison changed his life forever.

One final kiss calmed his wife down enough that she was able to find her shoes. They were outside their flat and headed towards the Apparition point in their alley before she had a chance to freak out again. He trusted his wife to Side-Along Apparate him to their destination. She had already been there plenty of times.

Thorfinn was prepared to hate every single moment of their evening. It had certainly not been his idea to meet two of their closest friends for an evening of musical theatre. He wasn't even one hundred percent certain he even knew what that was. After trying to do his own research on that damned contraption Hermione was always using, he was able to watch a couple of videos that only furthered his suspicions that he was in for a long, boring night. At least he could probably take a nap if it was too much.

"Look, Amycus and Joanne are already here."

He followed after his wife toward the couple waiting patiently on the pavement in front of the theatre. The women wasted no time embracing each other with bright smiles and warm hugs. He simply shook hands with his former comrade-in-arms like serious men were expected to do. Once Amycus greeted his wife with a kiss and he greeted Amycus' fiancée with a kiss, the four entered the brightly lit theatre together.

"'Les Miserables'?" He sneered at the name of the atrocity they were about to be forced to endure. "Haven't Amy and I had enough suffering? You want to see miserable people, just go to Azkaban."

Hermione swatted his arm. Amycus caught his eye and they both smirked. Thorfinn wasn't fooled. His mate was being dragged there unwillingly just as much as he was. He and Joanne were still in their honeymoon stage though. Amycus would crawl over hot coals naked if it brought a smile to his Annie's face. Thorfinn snorted. He'd grow out of that phase soon enough.

"It is a beautiful story," Hermione hissed. "Classic really. You will love it."

"I doubt it," he muttered under his breath.

Hermione and Joanne led them to their row of seats. Even after four years outside of prison the wizards still struggled with certain aspects of the Muggle world. The seats were too small. As soon as he sat down, Thorfinn was miserable. His overly perceptive wife simply rolled her eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

"These seats are too small," he whined.

"Maybe you're just too big."

Thorfinn huffed. Ten minutes remained until the musical brutality was set to begin. Sitting at the end of the row closest to the aisle allowed him the most room for his elbows, but repeatedly he had to stand up to let others into their row. Already his feelings on musical theatre were negative.

"What's this even about anyway?" he demanded of his wife in a loud, cantankerous whisper.

"It's set in France…"

He rolled his eyes. Great. _The French_.

"… after their Revolution two hundred years ago."

He groaned. Singing, dancing, _and_ a history lesson? Staying at home and watching that show with the puppets his son liked in his underwear sounded like a better use of an evening. Hell, going back to one of those fucking Muggle tooth Healers sounded like more fun.

"Just _try_ to enjoy it. You might even surprise yourself."

The lights went down and the curtain came up. When he saw the men dressed on stage as prisoners, he wanted to strangle his wife. Did she really think spending an evening being reminded of his past was a good idea? He turned to glare at the woman. The sight of her long, trim neck made him rethink his desire to strangle her. He had more _enjoyable_ plans in store for that neck later when they were alone. He talked his sister into keeping Sammy overnight. At least he could keep from getting bored by thinking of everything he wanted to do when they got home. A devilish smirk crossed his lips as he turned his attention back to the stage.

Okay, so the singing was actually quite good. And the content of the first song. He could relate. More than once when he was stuck in Azkaban he was certain he would die there and no one would be left to remember him.

He could certainly understand what it was like to be paroled. Doomed to live forever in a society that would never be able to look past his crimes. Once upon a time he considered breaking his parole and running off to another country. Then the beautiful woman next to him gave him a reason to stay. A reason to live. He sought her hand out in the darkness. She gladly accepted it with a squeeze.

It was hard work to make a new life. He knew that firsthand. Though Thorfinn was considered a respectable businessman now that their publishing house was so successful, he still lived in fear that his wife and son would be tainted by their connection to him. Years, possibly generations would pass before Rowle was an influential name again. Of course there were hopes already being placed on Sammy to be the first Minister for Magic from the Rowle family since the dismal one they had centuries earlier. His godfather Kingsley was determined that he had a future in magical politics.

The music was haunting at times. He could almost forget how tiny the seat he was sitting in was. Thorfinn was surprised by how interesting the play turned out to be. As a man who enjoyed crude humor more than he should, he even chuckled a few times against his wishes. Each time Hermione would gently nudge him with her elbow and smirk. Immediately he would have to put on an unhappy scowl. If she thought he was enjoying himself, she might make him go again.

A nap was immediately determined to be an impossibility. Not because he was interested in what was going on onstage, of course. No, the music was simply too loud. It certainly wasn't because he could sympathize with the sad, lonely woman who was screeching about how naïve and ardent she once was before she listened to the wrong man whisper pretty words in her ear about how wonderful the world could be. All the dreams he once had were destroyed by reality. Stuck behind the bars in Azkaban Prison, he had ten years to dwell on how dreams were dangerous. Hope could kill a man just as effectively as an Avada and with a great deal more mess.

He felt a great deal of anger watching what the poor woman was forced to do because of the narrow minds of those around her. How close was his sister to that sort of desperation after he was thrown in prison? His biggest regret would always be abandoning his innocent sister to the ravages of a post-Dark Lord world. Reina was luckier than most. As much as he hated the son of a bitch she married the first time around, he kept her from being forced to sell her body in the darkest parts of Knockturn Alley.

The moment he and Hermione started earning more money than they needed to live comfortably, he made it his personal mission to find the sisters and wives and daughters of his fellow Death Eaters who had not been so fortunate. He felt confident that he had been able to make some positive changes in a few of the poor souls' lives. Two of them even worked for them at the publishers. His wife had been his constant support and biggest champion. The good that came out of their work was almost enough to allow him the chance to forgive himself. _Almost_.

His anger only grew stronger when he watched the terrified child alone in the dark. What kind of monsters could do that to an innocent child? Fatherhood had changed him in ways he never would have imagined. Pasha did his best to prepare him. His sister and brother-in-law were more than a little surprised to learn Reina was pregnant only a very short time after her divorce was finalized. She had been told by more than one Healer not to expect any more children after her arsehole of an ex-husband cursed her one too many times. Their little boy Alexei and his little brother Lev were miracles that were cherished deeply by the entire Rowle-Poliakoff family.

When his little Samuel was born, Thorfinn was certain he cried more than his son. Named for his grandfather who was only saved from being murdered by his father because of his mother's selfless bravery, Sammy was proof that a man could live with his heart outside of his chest. He would protect his son and all of his little siblings he hoped and prayed would be coming along later with his dying breath. Imagining anyone just pushing a child out on their own made Thorfinn want to stand up, wrap the child in his jacket, and curse the idiot innkeeper and his wife. Monitored wand, be damned!

The rest of Act One ran by Thorfinn's wide eyes before he knew it. As the curtain closed and the lights rose for Intermission, he was annoyed. Was that it? What happened to the young, idealistic children playing at revolution? He was dissatisfied with the ending and told his wife so. She simply laughed.

"That was only Act One, darling. There will be a short break and then we will get to see the rest."

"Oh," he replied, pleased to hear there would be more. When he remembered his goal to make his wife believe he hated every moment so he wouldn't have to come back to the theatre, he grimaced. "You mean I have to sit through another _hour_ of this?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed his bulky frame out into the aisle. Clearly she wasn't going to humor him with a response. Once outside in the lobby, the men were sent to the bar while their ladies rushed to the long line to the loo.

"What do you think?" Thorfinn asked while they sipped at their wine and waited. Why did it always take women so long?

"It's, uhh, _interesting_ ," Amycus replied. "Not what I expected. Annie's been excited all week. 'Course I'd been happy just to meet you two for dinner and gone home early."

Thorfinn snorted into his glass. A wink and a nudge of his elbow made the older wizard laugh. From the moment Amycus stepped into Hermione's flat when Thorfinn was locked up in the Ministry holding cells, his little witch had a space in her heart carved out for the former Dark Arts professor. Long before Amycus finally worked up the courage to ask Joanne out, he was a member of their family. At times Amycus felt like the brother Thorfinn always wanted. Even his nieces and nephews called him "Uncle Amy".

"I bet you would have," Thorfinn teased. Not that he didn't feel exactly the same way. Early to bed would have been just fine with him.

"Sorry you two had to wait so long. It was mad in there," Joanne declared.

She took her glass of red out of Amycus' hand and proudly kissed him in front of everyone. Amycus' cheeks flushed slightly at the attention. He confided in Thorfinn and Hermione both more than a few times that he still felt like he was living in a dream. His wife slipped her hand in his and smiled. Thorfinn squeezed back. He could understand Amycus' feelings completely. If he was dreaming, let him never wake up.

"It hasn't been so bad, has it?" Hermione asked the men. Joanne chuckled.

"I'm rather enjoying it actually," Amycus declared.

 _Traitor_. Did he not understand that by letting them know he was actually having a good time Joanne would make him come back? Next time it might be something terrible with romance and coordinated dancing. Even worse, the women might team up together and make them _both_ come. He narrowed his blue eyes in Amycus' direction. His friend laughed.

"Time to go back in," Hermione announced as the lights in the lobby began to flash.

It did not take long after Act Two began for Thorfinn to be annoyed again. The naivety of the children was frustrating. He remembered all too well what it was like to be young and full of grandiose ideas of creating a world that he considered worth living in. The Dark Lord had been able to play him and so many of his fellow Death Eaters like mindless puppets. His seductive words made them believe a world where the Darkness ruled was preferable. Part of him wished he could find a time turner and go back to when he first thought he wanted to be a Death Eater. How naïve and _stupid_ he had been. It was only because of a miracle he certainly did not deserve that he had a life even worth living.

He grasped his wife's hand. To think that there was once a time he wanted to kill her and all others like her. Thoughts of the day he and Antonin Dolohov entered the Muggle café to find her seated at the table took up residence in the forefront of his mind. What kind of life would he have if his curses struck true that day? He _wanted_ her dead. Madness from years earlier when they were both just children colored his judgment. Once upon a time he did not think that the incredible witch who shared his life and bore his child was worth a second of remorse.

The swell of the orchestra forced his attention back to the action on stage. If he started actually _crying_ in the middle of the damned musical, he would certainly never hear the end of it from his wife. Thorfinn took several deep breaths to calm down. Were these fucking musicals _designed_ to make a man emotional or was he just feeling nostalgic and sentimental in his old age? He was almost forty after all.

When the foolish "soldiers" began to pass the bottles around and toast each other, he was certain that it was supposed to make everyone cry. He bit the inside of his cheek to focus on something else other than the fact that he could clearly remember sharing a drink or several with his former mates right before they went on a raid or went into battle. Many of them had been children then too. Too stupid to know what kind of monster they were following. He never wanted to stop and think about the exact number of friends he lost that day at Hogwarts. Way too fucking many! And for what? Nothing ever changes indeed.

He could hear sniffling next to him when the rash boy with the beautiful woman waiting for him began to sing about his lost friends. Large tears rolled out of his wife's whiskey colored eyes. Was she remembering the ones she lost that day too? No one left that battlefield untouched or unchanged. Thorfinn wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders. She laid her head on him and continued to silently cry. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the soothing scent of her curls as he did so. Would their wounds ever fully heal? Or were they doomed to wander the rest of their lives with the ache that popped up when they least expected it?

Life would continue. There would be joy. There would be sadness. There would be more births and more deaths. He could only hope that the woman dampening the sleeve of his jacket would be there with him for it all. Thorfinn felt fairly confident he could face just about anything with his Princess standing beside him.

When the curtain fell the final time, he was not sure how he felt. It had certainly been an experience he would always remember. His emotions had been plucked like the strings of a harp. Hermione felt no shame showing those around her the tears that were still pricking the corner of her eyes. Joanne was holding Amycus' hand and using her free one to rub up and down his arm. Clearly he had been affected by the spectacle too.

After the final curtain calls ended and the raucous applause died down, the four friends filed out of the theatre. They had reservations for a late dinner just down the street. No one really spoke much until they were seated at their table waiting on their meals.

"I told you it wouldn't be that bad," Hermione said with a grin.

"It was certainly not the _worst_ evening I've endured," he replied. Before his wife could get too smug, Thorfinn continued. "But there were a few nights I suffered the Cruciatus that were a little bit more enjoyable."

The piece of breadstick hit him in the forehead before he could even think to move out of its path. Loud laughter erupted at their table. Hermione hated when he callously brought up the horrors he had to endure years earlier, but occasionally they were good for a joke. He grabbed the hand that had only just launched a projectile at him to bring it to his lips.

"Any evening spent with you, Princess, is a night worth remembering."

Her cheeks flushed red. Joanne smiled. Amycus rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Just please, for the love of all that is still good in this fucked up world, _don't_ make me go see another one."


End file.
